Vignette
by Incogneeta
Summary: Tales left forgotten. Tales of humility. Tales of love. Tales of friendship. Tales of betrayal. Tales of hope.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Fire Emblem in any way, shape, or form— because frankly, would I really spend my time writing lowly fanfiction if I did?

**Summary: **When peace had settled on the land, Soren packed lightly and set off with the only person he had ever trusted; the only man he truly cared about.

**Inspiration: **"To Zanarkand", "Someday The Dream Will End" Final Fantasy 10

Gone with the Wind

"_IKE! Please Ike! You can't—"_

_...  
_

Soren realized that the instant his companion fell, something was wrong. He rushed to Ike's side, gently placing his hands on the man's shoulder; for the eighth time this month, he was violently coughing and wheezing. Silently, Soren watched Ike in fear— his hands trembling.

He looked over Ike for a few moments in concern; he could clearly spot things that he once would never expect to find on his dear friend years ago: the dark shade of his blue fair had faded to a mixture of gray and light blue; it seemed that his face was worn and wrinkled— no longer carrying the determination of his youth— whenever he and Soren were in conversation. Compared to his younger days, Ike needed frequent rest during the more recent of their fifty-plus years of traveling (though he would hardly admit to it).

Fifty years…

It was miraculous and frightening how fast the time they had spent together sped by, and yet, here they were: Ike had aged as any normal person would over the course of so many years, while Soren looked no older than the day he and Ike had first departed— and he despised it. He despised the fact that Ike had to suffer the curse of being human as he could only watch his friend's descent in age. He despised the fact that no amount of layers of clothing could hide the mark on his forehead or his body's slow growth. For years, Soren ignored the curse of his brand, believing that traveling with Ike would give him the strength to accept it— if only to treasure such naïveté temporarily.

"Ike," Soren slowly spoke, watching his friend carefully.

The said beorc glanced towards him, smiling in reassurance the instant their eyes met.

"We've walked enough for today, Ike. Let's rest," Soren said quietly, trying to keep a calm composure.

"I'm fine," Ike replied, almost frowning at his friend's concern. "I may not be as young as I once was, Soren, but a little cold won't hurt me."

...

"…_Soren. Don't be afraid. These things…It all happens for a reason. I'm just sorry….it has to be…so…sudden…"_

...

Soren sighed and offered Ike his hand as the man slowly stood up. Whenever Soren suggested that they take time to rest, Ike would become very stubborn and say that he could walk many more miles before thinking to stop would even cross his mind. It didn't take Soren very long to realize that Ike would say such things in a partial truth; perhaps it was his pride that kept him from being entirely honest, or he acted so strong-willed to keep Soren from worrying. He would never admit to being in pain, even if he was bleeding to death— and that only helped to strengthen the fears and doubts that haunted Soren.

"And if it's not just 'a little cold', Ike? I think that we should stop in the next village to—"

"Soren," Ike began, placing a hand on his slightly shorter friend's shoulder, "We'll keep going until sunset. Then we'll find the nearest village."

Hesitantly, the mage nodded. He closely followed behind Ike as the swordsman started to walk forward, as if the recent incident had never happened, as his crimson eyes set on observing Ike— though occasionally, they would shift to glance toward the forest surrounding the dirt path they traveled on. For days, they had walked this path. For months, they had traveled abroad in this foreign land. For years, they remained absent from Tellius.

"I wonder…"

Soren directed his attention towards Ike when he heard the man mumble, his brows slanted in slight curiosity.

"Ike?" Soren called, waiting for a reply.

"Hm?" Ike slightly turned to look at his retired tactician, before a look of realization appeared. "Oh! I was just thinking aloud. Sorry, Soren." This didn't surprise Soren as seeing that Ike tended to speak aloud to himself very often, though it became more apparent in the last few years of their travels.

...

"_Not you…Ike! You mustn't…" he sobbed. The tears burned his eyes._

_...__  
_

Despite his concerns, Soren merely nodded to Ike and continued to follow him in silence. In the past, he would have instantly voiced his doubts and concerns, but just as the wind eventually changes direction, Soren found himself becoming more reserved throughout the years. The hatred that burned when thinking of his origins had simmered to a small dim; he was less coarse when interacting with people other than Ike. Perhaps the temporary stays in the rural villages or towns gave Soren peace of mind of never becoming attached— even if a few laguz or beorc were to discover his brand, his life's secret, Soren knew that Ike would see to it that they immediately departed.

That was why Ike deserved the longevity Soren never asked for; that is why Ike couldn't die…He was the most important person in the world to Soren; a person Soren would gladly die for.

His grip on the tome he carried— one of the few belongings he cared to bring with him— the blessed book, Rexcalibur, which was said to be one of the strongest tomes in existence. He only bothered to keep it so near because he believed that it would help to protect Ike, as the occasional skirmish with bandits revealed.

"Hey, Soren?" Ike called. He had stopped walking and now stood with a solemn expression set on his friend.

"Yes?" The said mage immediately responded, while in turn stopping on the path.

"I think that it's almost time to return home…"

Soren stared at Ike, unsure if he had heard the man correctly, and then shook his head in confusion.

"What are you…saying, Ike?" Soren asked quietly, gazing at Ike worriedly.

"It's been so long," Ike said gently, his expression distracted by a far off memory. "They must have been so disappointed the day we disappeared."

Soren realized that Ike had been referring to the Greil Mercenaries, Ike's legacy. He frowned and said nothing.

"Yes," Ike continued, looking up to the sky of melancholy, "I had a good run here, with all of this." He motioned around to the forest, to the sky.

"Ike…"

"We'll have a good tale to tell them, that's for sure." Ike smiled— the iconic, hope-bringing, uniting, all-troubles-were-gone smile.

Soren remained quite as he watched the man who had not thought once of returning to his home over their long journey was suddenly overcome of memories, and couldn't help to smile slightly. As long as Ike was happy, he did not care how many miles he would walk with him.

"What do you think, Soren?" Ike asked him. He wanted his input for the decision.

If it were thirty or forty years ago, the apathetic mage would have told Ike that there was nothing to return to, but now, Soren understood that Ike truly needed this; that Ike needed some sort of interaction with other people, unlike Soren himself. They were truly different, but Soren still valued Ike as a competent person. He could bear returning to his casted shell of a home if Ike wished it. If only for Ike.

Soren nodded slowly.

...

_His hands shivered as he gripped the man's hand in a tight wrap; his tears splashed against the cold skin._

_...__  
_

He watched as Ike began to walk again and followed after him. Yes, if this was what Ike wanted, Soren would gladly stay with him, though he would never leave Ike's side to begin with.

...

_How could he known? How could he foresee that that cough would be his downfall? Why hadn't Ike listened to him? It would only take mere hours, a day or two at the longest, to stop in a village, to find a doctor. His last memories of Ike were of him coughing up blood; being rushed to an obscure village with no proper means of treating a sickly old man...beside his death bed. And the irony of it all? This had occurred mere miles from the border of Tellius._

_Now here Soren stood at a mound of bare, cold dirt— with a majestic sword, absent from its sister, protruding from the ground. Alone. Truly alone again._

_

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_

**A/N: Hello, everyone (or subscribed readers)! Just taking a small break from my usual category of writing, but this doesn't mean I'm going to stop with "Shattered Freak" or "Same as it Never Was." No, I just really need to put it in hiatus right now. I've been struck with bad luck every time I've tried to take some time to work on either of them, it seems— some examples include seeing my dog die from a gunshot, killing a young kitten by accidentally stepping on it.**

**Anyway, I'll be writing one shots for Fire Emblem. (Though some may branch into a two shot.) Enjoy! …And please forgive me making Ike and Soren seem OOC ;;_;; It's hard to imagine how the characters as fifty years older would act normally, because they are umm…old. Especially Ike and his old man tendencies and hair. **

**Reviews are love.**


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